“Yes,” said Gretel. “Is that you, Mrs. Becker?”
“It ess. Come right up, if you please.”
Gretel quickened her steps, and in another moment was shaking hands with a stout, middle-aged woman, whom she at once recognized as Fräulein’s aunt.
“Mr. Becker telephoned me,” she explained, “and I came as quickly as I could. I am so sorry about Fräulein. Is she suffering a great deal?”
“Come in,” said Mrs. Becker, and she led the way to her apartment, the door of which stood open.
Gretel followed her down the narrow hall to the parlor, a small room, furnished in very bad taste.
“Sit down,” said the hostess, motioning to the plush-covered sofa, but Gretel did not sit down.
“I haven’t long to stay,” she apologized. “Couldn’t I see Fräulein now?”
Mrs. Becker heaved a deep sigh.
“Our dear Anna is not here,” she said, solemnly; “they have taken her away to the hospital.”